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Slimy, disgusting tones of purple tore into Mikey’s peripheral vision. Everything was fuzzy, his eyes darting around anxiously. Wet tentacles wrapped around his ankle, causing his chest to tighten. The turtle tore into his lip with anxiety-ridden teeth, not realizing until he tasted unpleasant metal in his mouth. Hot tears welled in his eyes, but he didn’t want them. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to cry, he just wanted to-
WAKE UP.
The bed creaked loudly as Michelangelo’s torso ripped apart from the bed he seemed to be glued on. It was so quiet, except for his now audible heartbeat pounding in his chest. He swore he could taste his heart–or it might’ve been the taste of his lip bleeding. Tears poured, unwelcomingly. Raspy sobs broke out of his chest, plastron stuttering as his heartbeat melded with his breathing. Mikey subconsciously slid a hand over his mouth to cover his loud sobbing, which seemed like a usual routine for the box turtle.
Although his lead-filled limbs didn’t want to move from his bed, he needed to do something. He felt he was being uncomfortably stared at by an unknown presence. Michel clutched his stomach as if protecting his sensitive part from the world. Standing up felt like his first step ever taken, but he persisted. Heaving himself across the floor of his art-decorated room, he escaped from his room. It’d been then that he realized he never stopped crying, a burst of cold air that nearly dried his tears being the only signal of that.
Michelangelo just went anywhere, hands still wrapped tightly against his plastron. Eventually, he heard buzzing and clicking come from a shut door that emitted a soft purple light from the crack. That’s when his brother’s name slipped into his whirlwind of thoughts. Donatello. He needed Donnie, he wanted him, and he craved his comfort. These thoughts made him cry harder in desperation.
Although unwanting, he slid a hand away from his chest, attempting to push the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Frustration crept into his sweaty body, which only made him feel warmer. A few whimpers poured from his throat, which felt like it’d been sliced open. Mikey tried again to open the door, to no avail. He stomped his foot on the floor, although barely made a noise.
Stupid Donnie, why’d he have to lock the door!? I need him now… I just… want my brother.
The box turtle’s selfish thoughts caused a spiral of emotions, and he dropped to the floor next to the unmoving door. Tears spilled from his eyes, an unusual scene from the energetic turtle.
He exhaled sharply, not realizing he had been holding his breath to muffle his cries. When the clicking of a keyboard slithering out from the room stopped, he held his hand over his mouth.
Why are you staying quiet? You wanted Donnie, he noticed you, let go! Let go, let go, let go, let go-
The turtle's thoughts suddenly stopped once his head began to throb. His eyes slowly gazed up to the door. In defeat, he slumped over, holding himself in his arms.
He wept silently, knees curling into himself soon after. He didn't realize it, but his consciousness was drifting, and his tears succumbed after what felt like hours.
Michelangelo fell asleep. Whether it was because of his aching limbs or his desperation to stop thinking, he didn't know. But he was sleeping, and it seemed the minuscule presence of Donnie just behind the door calmed his head.
–
Donnie stood up from his chair, gazing at his work. His eyes ached, although his insomnia was a much stronger force than his body’s desperation to sleep. He heaved his body forward with a heavy sigh and lunged into his bean bag. He’d almost let the very wanted sleep pull him in, but that was until he heard a small thud that came from outside his door.
Donatello wanted to ignore it, which he attempted to do for a few minutes, but his curiosity peaked. The softshell turtle stood up again, legs trembling as he regained balance. He had tunnel vision that lasted for a few seconds, assuming he had stood up too fast. Brushing it off, he made his way to his door.
He unlocked it, honestly forgetting it was locked in the first place. Attempting to slide the door open, it wouldn’t budge. As if a force on the outside was blocking it… With enough willpower, he swung the door open. The motion caused a loud bang as the door collided with the wall. Donnie flinched at the sound and flinched again when he heard another thud below him.
It was hard to tell, although he recognized his younger brother at his feet. Donatello slightly tilted his head in confusion before the smaller turtle jumped awake at Donnie’s loud introduction.
–
Mikey jolted awake at the noise, instantly hyperventilating at the second scare of the night. He didn’t even look up, he just defensively held his scar-ridden hands in front of his face, blocking whatever was about to attack him.
“ Angelo..? “
The soft voice made the box turtle flinch, but he lowered his guard. It was Donnie! He was so grateful to see the other turtle dressed in a purple zip-up hoodie standing in front of him, he was just so happy and relieved and he wanted to never leave his side and-
“ What are you doing? “
Michelangelo’s trail of thoughts paused at his voice again. Suddenly, he was at eye level with the softshell turtle, supposing he had crouched down to look at Mikey.
Ah, shit - he had asked a question. The turtle opened his mouth, but no words wanted to come out. Instead, he remembered the horrible nightmare that led him here in the first place. His eyes welled up with tears, and Donnie’s expression faltered to a slightly more shocked one. Mikey couldn’t think to do anything else than lunge at his brother, hands wrapping tightly around the softshell turtle’s waist. It was then when wails broke out from him, a mix of tears, sweat, and snot secreting from his body.
Michelangelo wept and whined, and whimpered, and wailed, all in his brother’s arms. He only adjusted himself when Donnie returned the hug, arms wrapping around his neck and one resting on his head. The softshell, although horrible at comfort, rubbed gentle circles into the younger one’s shell.
The two stayed stuck in this position until Mikey’s cries quieted, and when he pulled away from Donatello.
“ I-... I’m sorry, I know you don’t like all the affection and you’re bad at the feelings stuff and all that but I just- “
A soft hush emitted from the other turtle.
“ You’re rambling. It’s okay, Mikey, I’m fine with physical touch when I know it will help you to feel better. Trust me. Now, can you please tell me what happened? “
Mikey scanned the turtle’s words, looking for any hint of agitation or annoyance. But there was none, he was genuine.
“ Uh… a dream… K-... “ Mike was trying to explain but choked on his words. “ He.. was in it. “ The box turtle said, instead of his name. Donnie’s expression softened, and he pulled Michelangelo against his plastron in a warm hug.
Donatello had splayed his legs out instead of crouching. Mikey was basically in a ball clutched against his chest.
“ I’m so sorry, Mikey… “
“ What for? “
“ The door… I never should’ve locked it. I promise, from now on, the door will remain unlocked in case this situation happens again. “ Donnie avoided the topic of his nightmare, unsure what words could help the turtle.
Mikey smiled, leaning closer into his brother’s warmth. “ Thank you.. “ He mumbled quietly, although it was still audible. The older turtle assumed Angelo was tired from the dragging night.
The turtles had moved onto Donnie’s giant bean bag, and the younger one was wrapped in a blanket he shared with his brother. Unusually for Donnie, the two cuddled and the softshell turtle did not fall asleep until he was positive Michelangelo was asleep. Even then, he stayed up longer to hear his soft, slow breaths to relieve Donatello.